


you’re an angel in disguise (you’re an angel in my eyes)

by thekardemomme



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, its disgusting really, sander just loves robbe so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: Robbe is Sander’s guardian angel.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 16
Kudos: 126





	you’re an angel in disguise (you’re an angel in my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> !!!warning for a mention of an animal death, as a quote from the movie stardust!!!
> 
> this is entirely based on the idea that angel by finneas is the love song that sander would write to robbe if he wrote robbe a love song, so i had to include some lyrics in case you haven’t heard it:
> 
> congratulations, you’ve been  
> pretending to be human  
> so well  
> might even fool the neighbors  
> reading your sunday papers  
> i won’t tell  
> but i know better than to  
> bring up the weather with you  
> and talk about the rain  
> after you fall asleep, i’ll  
> kiss both your eyes and cheeks  
> i know we’re not the same
> 
> i bought a house to live in  
> but you’re the home i’m missing  
> i know  
> nothing good lasts forever  
> but nights with you are better  
> so go slow  
> i never knew i needed you  
> before i found you for the first time

it’s early morning, it’s raining, it’s _cold,_ and sander just wants to stay in bed all day. he’s warm and comfortable in his bed, on his back with robbe sprawled over his chest, head tucked against sander’s shoulder and arm thrown around sander’s waist. he can feel every puff of robbe’s breath against his neck, and he thinks it could lull him back to sleep if he waited long enough. 

and if they had the time. they don’t, today. robbe has to leave soon—he’s going away for the weekend with his mom, to some wedding in ghent. originally, sander had been invited as robbe’s plus one, but then the bride and groom decided to limit it to family and close friends only due to covid, and robbe was forced to rsvp alone with his mother. 

sander’s been bitching about it ever since it happened. he’s only _just_ gotten robbe back from the lockdown, and now he’s being stolen away _again?_ sander’s figured out he can’t go more than one night away from robbe, and an entire weekend is just too much. 

thus, his master plan: invite robbe over to spend the night before he has to leave, and then trap him in bed and don’t let him get up until he’s missed his train. so far, it’s going amazingly, because robbe should _probably_ have woken up half an hour ago to get ready, and he’s still snoring on sander’s arm. 

sander wraps his arm around robbe, trails his fingers gently along robbe’s spine. his other hand comes to rest on the back of robbe’s head, raking through his hair. robbe’s skin is soft and smooth. sander could hold him all day, he thinks. just like this. who needs food or water when he has everything he needs right here in his arms forever? 

the sunlight is filtering through sander’s curtains and turning the room a bright orange, and it’s making robbe look ethereal. _celestial._ the way the light hits his tan skin and the wisps of his unruly hair, like a divine glow, like a halo. it makes robbe’s skin warm, hot even, despite the cold of the morning. it makes sander wonder if the sparks emerging from his fingertips on robbe’s spine are from electricity or the warmth of the sun. 

he leans forward, presses a soft kiss to robbe’s forehead, just because he can. just because waking up next to robbe is all that he ever wants every single day for the rest of his life. just because he loves the fuck out of robbe. just because he thinks robbe is the most beautiful boy he’s ever fucking seen, and he’s so lucky to get to have this boy in his bed. 

maybe he gets a little carried away. he peppers soft kisses all over robbe’s face, unable to contain himself, until robbe starts snuffling and scrunching his nose, whimpering as he wakes up. it’s infuriatingly adorable, but sander thinks that about everything that robbe does. robbe is just cute by default. 

“good morning, snuffleupagus,” sander teases, as robbe turns his head into sander’s neck. robbe whines and tightens his grip around sander’s middle, so sander acts in kind, moving his arm down from robbe’s hair and wrapping both arms around robbe’s middle. 

robbe scoots even closer, until he’s laying entirely on top of sander, and sander kind of can’t breathe—but mostly, he doesn’t care. being suffocated by the weight of his boyfriend is a method of death that sander gladly welcomes. 

robbe mumbles, “you smell good.” his words tickle, and sander can’t help but laugh and shy away from robbe’s face. robbe seems to realize what’s happened, and adds a quick, “sorry.”

“it’s okay, cutie.” sander presses a kiss to robbe’s temple. “did you have a good sleep?”

that makes robbe huff, pulling back so he can rest his chin on sander’s chest. sander has to cross his eyes a little bit to see him properly, but he likes having robbe like this, all on top of him and yet in the perfect position to kiss. sander moves his hand back to robbe’s hair, scratching his scalp gently. robbe honest to god _purrs,_ pressing into sander’s palm, and sander couldn’t stop the fond smile even if he wanted to. 

“i had a bad dream,” robbe admits, and sander’s hand freezes in his hair. robbe realizes sander’s concern and just whines, knocking against sander’s hand until he starts scratching again. “it wasn’t that bad. it was just about a bunch of spiders. probably came from watching harry potter before we went to bed.”

sander grins, “not a fan of following the spiders?”

robbe shakes his head, eyes slipping closed again. sander wonders if he realizes the time, and remembers that he has somewhere to be today. that they’re not supposed to just stay wrapped up in each other, cuddling and kissing until they fall back asleep. sander, for one, will _not_ be reminding him. 

“what’s your biggest fear?” sander asks, voice soft and light, as he resumes scratching robbe’s head at a normal pace. 

for a long few seconds, robbe doesn’t answer. his eyes are still closed and he’s still leaning against sander’s touch, as if he’s falling asleep again. it melts sander’s fucking heart, seeing robbe all pliant and soft and gooey like this. when he’d first met robbe, it felt like it took _ages_ for robbe to get comfortable with him. especially after everything that happened. and then he’d found out about all the shit robbe’s been through with his parents and his friends… sander hates himself for hurting robbe the same way so many people have hurt him before, but he hopes that he’s fixing it. he’s trying really hard to prove his love to robbe, to be good for him, to give robbe what he deserves. 

he’s pretty sure that robbe deserves way more than he could ever offer—fuck deserving the world, robbe deserves the entire goddamn galaxy, the _universe_ if that’s what he wants—but sander hopes that this, his love, is enough. he selfishly hopes that this is enough, even if it is less than what robbe truly deserves. 

robbe hums eventually, like he’s still considering the answer. but then his eyes pop open and he’s making eye contact with sander, pupils wide and gaze fond, and he says, “losing you.”

it makes sander frown. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, robin. i’m not going anywhere. you and me, 100%, in every universe. forever.”

“mm, i know.” robbe leans forward even more, head raised and lips poised at sander’s lips. sander tilts his chin up to ask for a kiss, but robbe doesn’t grant it—instead he just smiles, and nudges his nose with sander’s. “i meant more like… if you got hurt, or you got sick, or something happened and you… you know.”

sander does know. he knows because he has the same fears about robbe, the same sickening anxiety every time he says goodbye to robbe—be it for a night, a school day, a weekend, or a weeks long lockdown—that it’ll be the last time he ever sees him again. 

it’s only gotten worse since the pandemic started. especially when they were on lockdown, and sander couldn’t _see_ robbe, touch him or feel him or see if he was really feeling okay. every time robbe fell asleep early or got busy with his mama and didn’t respond to sander’s texts, the knot of anxiety built up in sander’s chest. 

nevertheless, he hates that his boy is feeling this way, that his boy is worrying about him. sander moves both hands to cup robbe’s cheeks, and smooths his thumbs along robbe’s cheekbones. he feels a little bit like he’s holding the entire world in his hands, and he supposes that in a way, he _is._ he is holding _his_ entire world in his hands. how lucky can one boy be?

“i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” sander promises, though he know he can’t really make that promise. “not any time soon.”

robbe nods, “i know. i still worry, though.” 

sander pouts, because he wants robbe to stop worrying about him, but he knows that nothing he can say will change his mind. so he tries a different tactic. “give me a kiss,” he demands. he puckers his lips and tilts his chin and waits. 

of course robbe obliges, leaning down and pressing his lips to sander’s. his hands come to rest on either side of sander’s head, so sander moves his hands to wrap around robbe’s shoulders, pull him down until they’re touching from head to toe. like maybe, if he pulls robbe close enough, they’ll meld into one, and sander can crawl inside of robbe’s heart and live there so they’ll never have to be apart again. 

he wants to say it, but it feels like too much. sander loves too hard, he’s been told that all his life. he loves too hard, feels too strongly, does too much too fast. lets his heart lead instead of his mind. scares people off because of how emotionally invested he becomes, and hurts others because of how quickly he falls. 

but his love for robbe _is_ that much. it’s huge, all-consuming, all sander can think about. it takes up more than just his heart. it fills his entire body, his entire _being._ every art piece is inspired by robbe, every joke he makes is based on whether or not robbe would laugh, every single smile in public is because he either thought of robbe or got a text from him or saw him across the crowded room. he’s the only person sander wants to be with, and it should feel obsessive, it should feel like too much, it should feel codependent, but it _doesn’t._ it feels like everything sander’s ever craved. 

they kiss like they’re breathing, chapped lips and morning breath and too much teeth be damned. sander pulls and pulls at robbe’s skin, tries to crawl inside of him like he yearns to do in his dreams, and prays that robbe doesn’t take a peek at the clock on his bedside table.

“i love you,” robbe says when they pull away, panting and smiling. their foreheads rest together, and sander resists the urge to try and kiss him again. 

“and i love you. so much.” 

robbe lays back down, moving to his back and pulling on sander until sander is the one that’s laying on his chest. sander goes easily because this is his favorite place to be: wrapped up in robbe’s arms, away from the cold and the rain and the world that has tried too many times to hurt him. here, in robbe’s embrace, he feels more than just at home, he feels _safe._ safe in a way he’s never felt before. safe in a way that’s unprecedented. like nothing can hurt him, nothing could even try. 

“i have to leave soon,” robbe whispers, and sander curses silently. he’d _really_ hoped that robbe wouldn’t notice, or wouldn’t remember. 

but that feels like too much, too. like it’s too clingy and needy to be afraid of robbe leaving for two and a half days. he’ll be back on sunday evening, so there’s no reason for sander to feel so desperate for him to stay. there’s no reason for sander to feel like crying. there’s no reason for sander to hold him tighter. 

he should’ve known, though, that robbe would see right through him. he always does. robbe knows him better than anybody else in the world. 

“i’ll be home so soon,” he reassures sander, his voice as soft as the hand that’s trailing along sander’s arm. “you won’t even realize i’m gone. won’t even have time to miss me.”

sander scoffs, “of course i’ll miss you. i’m gonna miss you the second you leave.”

“sander.”

“it’s true!” sander whines. he reaches out, lets his fingertips dance along the warm expanse of robbe’s chest, until it settles on robbe’s necklace. the little guardian angel. “i just got you back, robin, i’m not ready to give you up again. can’t you just stay here forever?”

“i wish i could. but i promised mama i’d go with her.”

sander pouts, wrapping his fingers around the delicate chain and pulling at the pendant. he wonders what he’s going to do without his guardian angel here, holding him while he sleeps and kissing him while he’s awake. “please? for me?”

robbe huffs a laugh, “that’s not fair. you know i’d do _anything_ for you—”

“anything except stay with me!”

“ _anything,_ ” robbe repeats, despite sander’s outburst. he reaches down to where sander is pulling at his necklace and unwraps his fingers from the chain, and then slides his own fingers between sander’s. he squeezes gently, a soft reminder. _i'm right here._ “for you, i would cross oceans and continents. i would go to the gold fields of san francisco and bring you your weight in gold, i would go to africa and bring you a diamond as big as your fist. i’d go to the arctic and bring you back a polar bear head!”

robbe’s tone is silly and teasing, but the words warm his heart anyways. “all of that, and you still won’t skip out on one wedding for— wait.” sander narrows his eyes at robbe, who’s giggling uncontrollably. “a _polar bear head?_ what the hell?”

“it’s from stardust,” robbe giggles. he brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses sander’s knuckles. “or haven’t you seen stardust?”

“the bowie biopic? the _unreleased_ bowie biopic that we are not going to see because it goes against what he wanted? because it doesn’t even use bowie’s music, since his estate refused to give them any rights to it?”

“no, no, no,” robbe laughs, pressing his hand over sander’s mouth before sander can work himself up further. sander’s now free hand falls back to robbe’s necklace, as it so commonly does (it's like a comfort, somehow), and he licks robbe’s palm until his hand is removed. “it’s a movie. there’s a lot of subplots, but the main one is that a man promises the girl he loves that he’ll bring her back a fallen star, but when he finds the fallen star, it’s a beautiful woman. and he falls in love with her instead.”

sander scans his brain, trying to figure out how he missed that movie. he supposes film was more robbe’s thing, as sander himself was always much more into graphic arts, but _still._ falling in love with a fallen star sounds exactly like the kind of love story that sander would fall in love with. 

it sounds eerily familiar, really. like somebody going on a weekend beach trip with his girlfriend and her friends, just to fall in love with a pretty boy instead. not a fallen star, though. that’s not what robbe is. robbe is… well, robbe is _everything,_ but.

but he’s something else. 

sander leans up on his elbow, looking down at robbe. robbe meets his gaze easily. it feels like there’s an invisible rope between them, pulling them closer and closer still, like sander is cosmically tethered to robbe and robbe is cosmically tethered to him. like they can’t be apart without spinning the world, making it all out of whack, without disrupting the stars and the galaxies and the _angels._

_the moonlight was shining down on you and i knew right away: he is the one._

there’s no moonlight right now, instead they’re bathed in the warm, gold light of the early morning that's inching by—and robbe really should be going—but sander is still just as sure now as he’s always been: _he is the one._

“i would do anything for you,” robbe repeats, and sander feels his eyes and the tip of his nose start to tingle with the promise of tears if robbe keeps being so _sappy._

sander smiles, “my beautiful boy.” _his angel._

robbe reaches up to loop an arm around sander’s neck, pulling him down for more kisses. they lose themselves in it, in the softness of their lips and the pulling touches, and sander wishes they really _could_ stay here forever. there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. not even in a magical world with a beautiful fallen star. 

they kiss until robbe’s phone starts going off. sander groans and drops his head to robbe’s neck, wrapping his fingers around the guardian angel pendant once more. it feels like he’s holding a piece of robbe’s heart. 

“when you came to the beach, that first time we met,” robbe breathes, and sander wonders what his boy was thinking about, and if it was the same thing that had gotten sander to thinking about that weekend, “did you know that i would be there?”

“yes,” sander says, because there’s no point in lying. 

when robbe says, “oh,” it’s breathy, like he’s been winded. like he’s shocked. 

sander thinks he shouldn’t be. 

“i was so nervous,” sander tells him. “imagine hearing your girlfriend tell you that her best friend noor has invited her on a weekend trip, and that her new boyfriend will be there. her new boyfriend who you just so happened to have a picture of on your phone, because you saw him one night and thought he was—” he swallows the words _an angel,_ still too scared that it’s too much. that he’s loving too hard. 

robbe hums. “you didn’t seem nervous. i was intimidated by your confidence.”

“i was shitting my pants, robbe.”

it breaks the moment just a little bit, sending robbe into a fit of giggles while sander just smiles at him. at how beautiful he is when he laughs. 

_he is the one._

they’re interrupted by robbe’s phone ringing _again,_ and this time robbe doesn’t ignore it. he picks it up off of the table and answers the call, tells his mom that yes, he’s awake, and yes, he’s leaving soon. no, he won’t miss the train and yes, he will remember to bring her phone charger that he borrowed. 

sander listens and tries not to cry. it’s stupid, he _knows_ it’s stupid, knows robbe will be back in only two sleeps and that’s nothing compared to how long they stayed apart during the lockdown, but he doesn’t want robbe to leave. he feels so pathetic and clingy and needy. _embarrassed._

when robbe hangs up, he sighs heavily and wraps his arms around sander again. “i really need to go,” he murmurs, and sander just nods. he’s too afraid to speak, and besides, he doesn’t actually want robbe to miss his train. as much as he wants robbe to stay, he more so wants robbe to have a nice weekend with his mama. 

he tilts sander’s chin up and kisses him. softly at first, but then it gets deeper and more passionate, and they’re making out before they both even process that’s what’s happening. sander wraps around him like an octopus and resists when robbe tries to pull back and pull away. 

robbe laughs into his mouth, “come on, sander. i’m gonna be late.” but his whining tone just makes sander more desperate to keep him. “sander, let me up. don’t make me tickle you, young man.”

sander drops against the mattress, letting robbe get up. “fine! leave me. break my heart just like i always knew you would.”

robbe rolls his eyes. “sander.”

“wow,” sander says, clutching his chest dramatically and sighing, “it’s almost as if i can still hear his voice.”

“idiot.” robbe tosses a pillow at him, and then moves away from the bed to gather his clothes. 

while he gets dressed, sander shuffles in the bed so he’s sitting up, propped against the headboard. he takes the time to admire the beautiful expanse of robbe’s back, the curve of his hips, the dip of his spine, the flexes of his thighs. robbe is so fucking _gorgeous,_ even objectively so—although sander would absolutely never claim to be objective—and sander’s heart aches all the more. 

he misses robbe already. 

robbe disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then returns with sander’s pills. sander opens his palm for them and takes them diligently, fondly rolling his eyes when robbe reminds him to eat soon so they won’t upset his stomach. 

of course, he resists the urge to tell robbe that he can’t be expected to eat when robbe isn’t there to help him cook. it would only break his own heart more to make those kinds of jokes. 

when robbe finishes getting ready and ensuring all of his things are packed for the trip, he moves to sit on the side of sander’s bed, right next to where sander has sat up. sander tries to pout and turn away from the kisses, but robbe captures his chin and thus, captures his lips. 

“i love you,” robbe reminds him, words whispered against his mouth. “i’ll video chat you every night, and call you whenever i can. and i’ll text you all day, i promise. it’ll be like i’m just at home. you won’t even realize i’m all the way in ghent.”

“except for when i try to go to sleep and you’re not here to cuddle.”

“we’ll video chat until we fall asleep. i know it’s not the same, but—”

sander nods, “it’s enough.” he swipes his thumb across robbe’s lips, and then kisses them once, twice, three times. “thank you. and i love you. and i’ll miss you.” he hears his own voice begin to crack, and he wants to be embarrassed, but robbe is giving him the softest, warmest look and sander just can’t be. “i miss you already.”

“baby.” 

robbe leans in and kisses him again, and then hugs him tight to his chest. sander buries his face in robbe’s neck and takes deep breaths, trying to memorize the way robbe smells. 

as if he won’t see robbe again. 

(he knows he will. he _knows._ but brains can be stupid and complicated, and the lump in sander’s throat won’t let him forget that there’s a possibility that this goodbye is a lot more final than they’re planning for.)

he hugs robbe tighter, clings tighter. doesn’t want him to leave—not now, not ever. wants robbe right here in his bed forever, fucking forever. he isn’t sure he knows how to breathe without robbe anymore. 

robbe pulls back eventually, giving sander a small smile and one more quick kiss. and then, instead of standing up when sander thinks he’s about to, he reaches behind his neck and starts fiddling with his necklace. 

at first, sander thinks he’s just adjusting the clasp. it gets turned around when they sleep sometimes, because robbe _never_ takes it off, not even in the shower. it’s incredibly sexy, that necklace, and sander will admit to doing some pretty sinful things with that pretty angel. 

(he’s not sure whether he’s talking about the pendant or robbe.)

robbe lowers his hands, and sander realizes that he’s taken the necklace off. he looks naked without it, but before sander can say anything about it, robbe is leaning forward and wrapping the chain around sander’s neck. 

and suddenly, sander is in tears for an entirely different reason. 

“there,” robbe says gently, when the pendant is resting on sander’s chest instead of his own. “now you have a little guardian angel for while i’m gone.”

sander thinks about earlier, about how holding the necklace felt like holding a piece of robbe’s heart, and suddenly he doesn’t care if it’s too much anymore. he’s never been too much for robbe. always enough and never too much. 

“you’re an angel, robbe,” he tells him, his tone gentle and genuine, holding robbe’s gaze and holding robbe’s hand. “my guardian angel is you.”

then they’re kissing again, and sander isn’t sure if he’s tasting robbe’s tears or his own but he doesn’t care. he just kisses like he’s breathing, and when it’s over, he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore. 

he has a piece of robbe, now. a tangible piece, a piece of robbe’s _heart._ right here in his hands for always. (or, at least until the real robbe comes back.)

“i’ll see you soon,” robbe whispers. “i love you.”

“and i love you.”

one more kiss and robbe is off, into the rain and the cold, away to ghent for two and a half days. but it doesn’t feel so scary anymore, so big and suffocating. 

sander just settles into the warmth of his bed, and rests his head on robbe’s pillow. it still smells like him. he pulls the blankets over his head, burrowing into the sheets, and rests his phone next to him so he’ll hear when robbe calls. 

in the meantime, he wraps his fingers around the necklace, and pretends the warmth is robbe’s skin, pretends the pendant he’s holding is robbe’s hand. 

_he is the one. my angel._

**Author's Note:**

> title from angel by finneas 
> 
> find me on tumblr @wlwharrys or on twitter @starsamidala


End file.
